


Satiation

by uhright



Series: Questions and Answers [3]
Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Age Difference, Choking, Confessional Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rough Sex, Self-Insert, Smut, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhright/pseuds/uhright
Summary: One-shots about things that weren't included in "Curiosity" and its sequel. As such, some details might be confusing, and spoilers will be included. These can still be read as a standalone piece, though!Lots of smut. Like, a lot. Explicit chapters will be marked with an asterisk (*).





	1. a church*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joel and Sunshine fuck in a church. Pray for my soul after writing this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *doesn't update any fics and instead works on filthy porn* YOU GUYS ASKED FOR THIS AND I HAVE DELIVERED. ready a cold shower cause Joel didn't come to mess around (not like he ever does but)
> 
> i mean if u dont get turned on by ur own smut can u even call urself an author ?????

_September 26, 2019_

_We’ve been traveling together for over a year now. Boston is just a few weeks away. I don’t want whatever Joel and I have together to end like I know it will once we’re caged like animals inside the zone. I know he loves me, and I love him, but he—_

“(Name), time to go.”

He storms into the room with a huff, too busy with crafting shivs and nail bombs to see you sheepishly stuff your diary back into your bag. You hadn’t meant to keep it. You hadn’t. But the slightly-worn leather backing and the intricate designs etched into the material was too beautiful to pass up. Plus, it had already been written in by a woman in her thirties with a husband and a new baby. The entries are heartbreaking to read.

“Where are we going?” you ask, rolling up your trusty blanket and stuffing it on top of the journal so Joel can’t find it at first glance.

“There’s a Catholic church just north of here. Looks pretty sturdy from what I could see.” He walks over and hands you a shiv and a bomb, then grabs your face when you turn to leave and doesn’t start speaking until he has your undivided attention. “Stay right with me. Hunters are all over this area.”

When he releases you, you still feel the pressure of his touch and the warmth of his fingers on your skin. You want to fall into him and beg him to touch you, suckle at your neck the way he knows you like—

No. _Focus._ Your sexual frustrations can be dealt with later.

But goddamn if you can’t help but leer at the broadness of his shoulders and the thickness of his arms as he walks ahead of you. He’s built like a tank, all muscle and hardness and seeing him kill people with his _bare hands_ leaves you a sputtering mess every time.

“... Are you listening to me?”

You cast your eyes away from his torso and up to his face, twisted up in annoyance.

“Um, yes.”

He releases a long sigh from his nose and shakes his head.

“(Name), I dunno what your problem is, but you need to fix it before we walk in here. We gotta be on guard.”

When he crosses his arms, you have half a mind to lower yourself onto your knees and beg him to bend you over the car to your left. But you don’t. Instead, you gulp and nod your head and allow him to wrap a warm hand around your upper arm and lead you into the church.

Your family was the religious sort, as were most people that lived in the south, but Christianity was their drug of choice. You still think that it’s all bullshit. It wasn’t like you never learned about Catholicism, though. After all, you’ve met many a people on your journey who were Catholic. The whole thing was just so fucking confusing, though.

The hall is quiet, beautiful and serene and macabre. Pews are overturned and askew, pieces of the altar are chipped away, yet the glass-paned windows are still intact, giving off an odd juxtaposition of life before the outbreak and the decay and destruction of this new world you’ve found yourself surviving in.

“It’s so weird, ain’t it?” you ask, and Joel turns to look at you from examining a large cross still nailed to the wall overhead. “How stuff changes. Priorities, I mean. Religion used to be the thing the masses relied on and now, people have had to give up the very foundation of this bullshit just to survive.”

He abruptly chuckles, handing ghosting over your shoulder.

“Not the religious sort, I take it?”

You shake your head and lean into his side with a sigh, the air feeling heavy with grief, with missing something that you had once hated, if only because it meant the world was normal at one time.

“I always wanted to go to confession before this.” He waves a hand in a vague motion in front of him. You simply listen, press an ear to his chest to feel it rumble every time he speaks. “Cleanse myself of all my sins. ‘Course, back then the only thing I really had to repent for was lying to Sarah all the time just to keep her out of trouble. Never thought I would go as far as to kill somebody.”

“You could still go to confession.”

He looks down at you, a hint of mirth in his eyes.

“Oh, so you’re a priest now?”

You shrug and lead him to the confessional off to the corner of the hall.

“If you want me to be.”

He studies the box, the wood worn and chipped from being pushed around and used as coverfire. You don’t give him time to back out, instead walk inside of the small space and beckon him to you.

“(Name), we don’t got time to play church.”

You unzip your jacket and toss it onto the low-lying seat behind you.

“Who said that’s what I wanna do? Now get in here before somebody comes.”

He reluctantly steps inside and locks the door, leaving the small space barely visible with the minimal light shining through the screen to your left. The air is stifling, the room so small that there’s less than half a foot between the two of you.

You push him back against the door and lower yourself onto your knees, reaching up to undo his jeans.

“(Name),” he warns, voice low and authoritative, and it only succeeds in stoking the heat in your lower belly.

“You’ve been driving me up the fucking wall lately, Joel, and you know what you’re doing, don’t you?” You glance up at him and wrap a hand around the base of his shaft, lightly squeezing. He hisses, no doubt from the coldness of your fingers, but you smile anyway. “Do I have to beg for your forgiveness?” He narrows his eyes at you, opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “Well, forgive me, Father Joel, for I have sinned.”

“(Name), that’s—” his breath catches in his throat when you take him into your mouth and moan at the musky taste of him that you missed so much.

You circle your tongue around the tip, hum appreciatively at the salty taste of precum that leaks from his slit, then sink your mouth down onto him, swallowing down the urge to gag when he hits the back of your throat. He leans forward and presses a hand to the opposite wall in the small space, the other running through your hair. You pull away to catch a breath and work your hand over him, his small groans dizzyingly satisfying.

You slip a hand beneath his shirt and ghost cold fingertips over his stomach, flick your wrist with each pump of your fist over his cock. You look up at him out of curiosity, watch the worry of his teeth over his bottom lip and the furrow of his brow as he squeezes his eyes shut. He's so fucking beautiful.

Jesus Christ, you know how dangerous this situation could potentially escalate to. Here you are, jacking Joel off in the middle of a fucking church in the middle of a _town riddled with bandits._ But logic be damned, there’s a pretty high probability you won’t live to see the end of the month, so small pleasures are always a godsend.

Well, _this_ one isn’t.

You wrap your lips back around him, moaning when he suddenly thrusts into your mouth.

“You’re walking a dangerous line, little girl.”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, if you weren’t dripping before you sure as fuck are now.

You move to pull back, but he presses a hand to the back of your head so you can’t go anywhere, letting out a dangerous chuckle.

He fucks your mouth, moaning each time you gag around his length before pulling out to let you catch your breath and let the sensation die down. You cough, throat beginning to grow sore, yet all he has to do is tap on your cheek and you eagerly open your mouth, fully set on pleasing him.

He eventually drags you to your feet, turns you and slams you into the opposite wall until your cheek digs into the cold wood.

Oh, you knew exactly what you were doing with this little game and you’re always eager for the consequences of your meddling.

He yanks your pants down to your ankles and orders you to step out of one leg, and you’re very quick to obey. Whenever he gets like this, you know to always do as he says or he leaves you wanting. You had tried to be difficult once. Never again.

He lifts you up to stand on the seat to make up for the height difference, then slowly slides into you. His hand wraps around your throat and slightly squeezes to keep you quiet, and you can only wince with pleasure as he slowly fills you, stretches you almost to the point of pain, but he fits inside perfectly and strokes along the places within you that have you already gasping for breath.

“Christ, you’re wet.”

“Fuck, Joel, I know,” you whimper, attempt to angle your hips back to meet his languid thrusts. “God—fuck— _please."_

“Please what?” The breath is knocked from your lungs when he suddenly starts slamming into you, the sound of skin against skin deafening inside the small room. You are most definitely wet, if the lewd sounds he produces with each thrust of his hips are any indication. “Please _what_?”

You flail your arm back to grab onto something to ground yourself and dig blunt nails into the arm holding your hips in place.

“Don’t stop please don’t stop Joel oh my god!” you exclaim, voice tinged with a pleasured sob as the heat grows to be unbearable.

The hand around your throat squeezes tighter, makes your vision swim for a moment and fire to lick almost painfully between your legs before he releases the pressure to its original state.

“Listen at you, all nice and wet for me, huh? You like when I fuck you like this?” The filthiness he mutters into your ears makes you clench around him, a new surge of wetness coating his cock. “Such a dirty little girl, aren’t you? Getting off to some old man fucking you in a church.”

“Fuck, Joel, yes.”

You’re so wound-up that you actually might die if you can’t touch yourself soon.

He suddenly pulls out, picks you up and sets you down on the floor and yanks your head back with a hand in your hair.

“Hands and knees. Now.”

“What’s the matter? Those old legs of yours too tired to stand?”

He manages a small grin at your jesting despite feeling the need to look as intimidating as possible.

You kneel down and rest your forearms on the seat, unsure as to how this will work in the tiny space, but if anybody can find a way, it’s Joel.

He pries your legs apart and settles in between them, presses a hand between your shoulderblades to arch your back and push your upper body into the seat below. He grabs onto both of your hips and bottoms out in one quick thrust that leaves you panting and clutching onto his wrist.

He moves a hand from your hip to slip between your legs and circle a finger around your clit, forcing a long whimper from your throat and a tightening of your walls in appreciation.

Joel’s breath grows ragged in your ear, hips stuttering, and you know he’s _so close._ You rhythmically clench around him, smiling through pleasured tears at his growl. He digs his teeth into the skin of your shoulder to muffle his groans as he spends himself inside you, the rhythmic twitching of his cock making you whimper. He slowly begins to gather his breath and pulls out of you, leaving you empty and sore. His hand finally lowers from your throat so he can adjust his clothing and hair.

“Turn around,” he whispers, voice soft and tinged with worry. He winces and traces a thumb over the side of your neck, then the slope of your shoulder. “Jesus, (Name), tell me if I’m hurting you next time.”

You simply shrug and mutter, “I like it, though. And you didn't hurt me.”

He chuckles, pulls a rag from his pack and hands it to you.

“Clean up real fast so I can finish you up.”

“How romantic,” you coo, rolling your eyes at his forwardness.

“I’m serious.” He pats the seat. “Sit down. Hurry.”

“Why do I need a towel when I have my mouth?”

His jaw drops slightly, and he quickly shakes his head, incredulous.

“I corrupted you.”

You shoot him a lopsided grin and dip a hand between your legs before sucking your fingers into your mouth, humming at the salty taste of him.

He releases a breath and closes his eyes.

“What, you don’t wanna watch?”

He snaps his head to glare at you, meeting your challenging eyes with his own, and immediately buries his face between your legs. Shaking hands card through his hair as he opens you up with a skilled tongue and laps up his remaining come, then easily slips two fingers into you and strokes _up_ , makes you see stars. He suckles on your clit first, flattens his tongue out and laves over it, ultimately decides on quick little flicks that leave you wondering what your own _name_ is.

He knows the quickest way to get you to your release but always tries out new techniques in case something else works better this time. He knows your body like the back of his hand. Knows every little freckle, every scar and how they got there. Knows how to tell what you like the most and what isn’t exactly getting you off the way it should be. He’s the master of your body and it never fails to impress you.

The fire spreads down to your toes, flushes the skin of your face and chest and you can feel the sweat start to bead on your forehead from the heat of the room and the heat swirling within you.

Joel pulls away just before your peak to leave a trail of hickies on the inside of both thighs. You dig your fingers into his hair and attempt to push his head back down but he only grins against your skin and swats your hand away.

“Joel please god I’m begging you please!”

“If you don’t shut up I’m gonna gag you,” he states, as if he’s talking to a misbehaving child.

You cover your face with the crook of an elbow in an attempt to keep quiet as he continues to dance away from where you need him most.

Then he starts again, working you back up to an almost-orgasm before dancing away again and again. At this point you start to cry in frustration and _beg_ him to let you come, but he only chuckles darkly, moving to hover over you and wrap the hand that once held your thigh around your throat.

“That little plan of yours sure backfired, didn’t it?”

“Please, Joel, I’ll do anything. Just… fuck, _please._ ”

He pulls his fingers out of you and you whine, grabbing at his retreating wrist.

“Please what?”

“Please let me come. Please, Joel, please please.”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward in a slight smirk.

“You look pitiful.” He pats your cheek. “Poor baby. Alright, I’ll let you come.”

Joel lowers his mouth back to your clit and flicks his tongue over the nub, and it takes only seconds for you to collapse into a flurry of moans and whimpers, begs for him to _keep going_ as your orgasm sends blinding ripples of pleasure from between your legs, spreading out in waves. He pulls away at the first sign of oversensitivity and sits up to kiss you. If you weren’t so thoroughly exhausted, the sharp taste of you on his tongue would turn you into a whimpering mess. He helps you to your feet and takes his time with putting your clothes back on. It’s a small gesture, yet it still warms your heart all the same.

He zips up your jacket and playfully tugs your hood over your head and eyes, and you laugh and swat his hands away.

“You alright, Hillbilly?” he asks, suddenly serious. “I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?”

You shake your head, rest your palm atop the hand he has worrying over the side of your neck.

“I’m better than alright. That was the hottest thing we’ve ever done, if I’m being honest.”

He turns to you and gives you a smirk that makes your belly flip, then steps back into the hall.

“There might be a room upstairs we could use for tonight.”

“I’m really hungry, so can we eat first?”

He pulls you to his chest and buries his face into the crook of your neck, seemingly committing your smell to memory.

“We can do that.”

You make sure hunters aren’t lurking in any corners or outside the church then sit down for a makeshift picnic in a shadowed corner of the room. He pulls you to his side and offers you bits of cut-up apple to tide both of you over until tomorrow, tells you that he loves you and that you mean the world to him, and it leaves you feeling wanted and cared for and warm in your chest.

“Love you, too, Joel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give me places for these two to bump uglies if u want !! i have a few in mind but i would love some ideas YES
> 
> also i headcanon him as being a fucking animal in bed but then after sex he's the most precious thing ever and rlly attentive and i feel like when he loves he loves with everything he has cause he doesn't wanna lose you like he has everyone else and i just love this man ok


	2. in the moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the apocalypse, there is no such thing as "making love". Joel and Reader learn this firsthand, so when they get a chance to do just that, they take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've missed writing these two dearly, so have this quick drabble i thought up last night!

**AN ALLEY**

It happens in a rush, like always. After ample teasing and lewd gestures throughout the day, he takes you to an alley in town. Too quick to do more than take off leggings and lower pants before he lifts you into his arms and pushes you against a wall, and he enters you in one full stroke, fills you up and makes you sigh against his neck.

Always telling you how good you feel around him. Always making you blush at the wording he uses, as the snap of his hips drive you to orgasm again and again until you think you might die from the numbing pleasure.

The drag of his cock is maddening, the feeling when he hits every sensitive spot inside you. It’s almost too much, but so is he. Almost too stubborn, almost too cranky, just bearable enough to keep you on your toes and wanting _more_. Always more of him.

You drop to your knees and let him finish inside your mouth, relishing in the groans he can’t help but make as you lick around the head of his shaft. It’s a grand show of swallowing, like he told you he enjoys, a show of your empty tongue. Then there’s silence. Nothing but ragged breathing and the rustle of clothing and you brush a lock of hair off his sweatslick forehead after you stand, smiling up at him.

 _This is happiness,_ you think. Only a year spent with him and you already forgot what it was like to not constantly stand in his presence.

If only you could have him in a bed for once, with clean sheets and lit candles and soft jazz playing in the background. So cheesy and stereotypical, yet you would take that any day over quick trysts against walls or on desks or in the backseats of cars.

His beard brushes the skin of your forehead as he places a soft kiss to your hair, cradling your neck in his palm.

 _We should get going,_ he says, like always, wanting to brave the world with a fresh orgasmic glow. Apparently, it makes you see things differently.

The moment is interrupted by a high-pitched screech coming from the run-down store leading to the alleyway, and then runners burst from the door.

**AN OFFICE**

The desk is hard beneath your body after being forced to lean over it until your toes barely touch the ground, and you would fall if it wasn’t for the large hand pressing steadfast between your shoulder blades.

Wood creaks under heavy thrusts. A hand over a mouth to keep you silent while he beckons and stokes the flame burning hot inside the pit of your belly. He has to bite the skin of your neck to keep from crying out when you feel him start to twitch inside you, and you clench your inner muscles so hard that it pushes you over the edge.

Afterward, he pets your hair and rubs your back and tells you how much he cares about you, how he would do anything to keep you safe. Asks if anything hurts, how a fresh wound is faring. The afterglow is always nice and intimate, sometimes more than the actual sex.

You hear the voices of men, sudden and loud and overbearing, and you dive under the desk before being dragged out by the hem of your jacket.

**A LAKE**

He helps you straddle him, a collective sigh loud in the calm quietness of the forest air when you fully seat yourself upon him. Tonight you can take your time. No interruptions.

Your hands never stop their roaming, running through his chest hair and over the skin of his shoulders to lightly scratch at his back. The water clings so beautifully to his skin, and he looks so clean and content and then he _smiles_ and your heart skips a beat or four.

Silence accompanies you, pierced by a heavy breath or a slight moan, and you love this.

 _Let’s just stay here forever,_ you whisper against his collarbone, lean back to look up at him.

 _I would if I could, kiddo,_ and then you melt into him, gasping when he lifts you by the hips only to bring you back down once again.

There’s the sound of water, of a different kind of wetness that makes him groan into your ear when you adjust your position and heartily impale yourself on him again and again.

The first touch to your clit makes you whine, orgasm immediately coiling tight inside you from all his previous petting and caressing. You let go, focus on nothing but you and him and the pleasure curling your toes, and your mind clears. Orgasm overtakes you in waves, exactly like the ones surrounding you and lapping at your torso, and your chest heaves as you collapse against him, completely spent.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, humming against your cheek.

Tonight you  _stay_ like this, wrapped up in each other’s arms, letting the warmth between your bodies keep you still despite the chill of the air and the cooling of water droplets against your skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you wanna leave any prompts in the comments (smutty or otherwise), i will gladly fill them bc i need ideas wow!!!


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